'Jane, my dear, I have repeatedly told you not to be so boisterous,' put in her father. 'Go back, and walk with your sister Edith.'
The little girl tried to withdraw her hand and obey, though with a wistful look; but Arthur detained it, and went with her the few steps to meet Miss Armytage:
'Edith, are you not glad? They all live at Cedar Creek, quite close to Daisy Burn, and we can see them every day; and he says Daisy Burn is a very nice place'—
'I have had some experience of children,' began Captain Armytage stiffly, 'but one so talkative as Jane I have seldom met. You should correct her, Edith, my dear.' For the man's voice was what he wished to hear. Edith's hand was most gently laid on the dear little sister's arm as a caution; but at this juncture both gentlemen were obliged to press forward and help the oxen out of some critical situations, and Jay could whisper her delight and her anticipations without fear of reprimand for a few minutes at least.
Then, when the waggon brought up in front of Mr. Bunting's store, young Armytage woke up with a mighty yawn and stretch to declare that bush travelling was the greatest bore—would they ever reach the farm? And he thereupon arose to the exertion of kindling his pipe.
'Nonsense, Wynn, can that be you? Glad to see some face I know among these endless trees. They're nearly as sickening to me as waves to a fellow in his first voyage. Hope the farm has been well cleared of them. You know the ground, eh?'
'Not all cleared by any means; but if you had to take the axe in hand as we have'—
'Gentlemen, are you going to liquor?' said Zack in a persuasive tone, marshalling the way into his bar. 'Almeria, tell your ma to bring here some of her best beer to treat these gentlemen—partic'lar friends. Be spry, will you?'
The tawny black-eyed young lady answering to the above high-sounding cognomen returned in a few moments with a jug, whence her father poured forth three horn goblets of dark fluid. Arthur, through superior knowledge not touching his, was highly amused by the grimaces of the others. Indeed, the captain had swallowed a huge gulp of it before he realized fully its strange flavour, and then could but sputter and scour his moustache and lips with his handkerchief. Mr. Bunting looked on with exemplary gravity.
'Thar! I told th' ole woman that spruce beer ain't so good as usual this brewin'.'